


Chaotic emotions in a sea of fluffy clouds

by JustOneMorePerson



Category: Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst and Feels, Arranged Marriage, Canon Related, Canon alteration, Cheshire is a troubled teenager, Emotional Hurt, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Canon, Strangers to Lovers, The canon is there but I change it to my liking, mild self-esteem issues, original elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 22:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustOneMorePerson/pseuds/JustOneMorePerson
Summary: KIOTCHYN: Attention; pay attention.BRILLIG: 4 in the afternoon;  the time the start roasting things for dinner.FRABJOUS DAY: The day the Oraculum predicted that Alice would kill the Jabberwocky and liberate Underland from the oppressive reign of the Bloody Red Queen, thus returning the crown to its rightful owner, her Majesty the White Queen.TULGEY WOOD: A thick forest where the checkerboard battlefield is located.
Relationships: Chessur/Original Male Character, Iracebeth of Crims/Ilosovic Stayneosovic Stayn, Mirana of Marmoreal & Chessur, Tarrant Hightopp & Chessur, Unrequited Chessur/Tarrant Hightopp





	Chaotic emotions in a sea of fluffy clouds

**_Title: Two Sister. One Crown. The proposal at dinner._ **

_With the end of the act the story is not finished, sometimes a new episode begins. Even when it comes to two very different sisters. And where the link was broken in battle, may an alliance emerge with a proposal._

Cheshire bit his lip. He fidgeted, frantically pacing around and trying, uselessly, to keep his hands still, while he muttered to himself. Putting his best effort to memorize the right words for his speech, the most important speech of that night and that, as always, he had forgotten to plan in advance—Did he mention that it is the most important?—. That didn't help calm his nerves. The speech had to be perfect, as would be the dinner, the decoration, the atmosphere, his wardrobe and everything in general. There could be no faults, he was not allowed that luxury.

It should go well.

The words came and went in his mind, a non-coherent mess that led nowhere. He didn't have a speech, his outfit was still with the tailor after the little incident and there was no possible way that he would manage to calm the panic inside of him. A deep breath, he stopped, thinking of a way to make it all right. Maybe if he didn't attend, everything would be perfect, no one would notice his absence, they never did, and they would fill the space of his speech with something more interesting. He sounded tempting; _KIOTCHYN_. He was not skipping the banquet, it was an event that was planned for a long time and that required too much effort. It's not being ruined because of he.

At he feet, the ivory-white two-tone patterned floor—one darker than the other— had been polished like other things for the occasion. Shimmering marble. Above all, the palace rises; its immaculate marble towers crowned with elegant chess pieces, its windows dazzling like silver in the faint glare of the sun. The sky was covered by white cottons, fluffy in their unattainable softness. And how he wish could sleep in them. Lazily stretching into them, feeling that fluffy whiteness under his palms, and that was impossible. Even for him, though certainly the palace's silk and velvet comforters were unique in their extreme softness.

He shuddered at the sound of glass breaking above his head. Higher. He swerved out of the way just as a ceramic bowl smashed onto the floor, scattering its contents. Sniffing the aroma he could tell that it was snail sauce. He looked up to find a broken window, probably from the kitchen, he bit his lip at the consequences of that. Mirana would not be happy. Not after she's planned the perfect dinner to death. A dinner that was destined to mend ties broken centuries ago by a crown. The crown that indicated who ruled Underland.

The same crown that condemned everyone many centuries ago, that crown, the one that started a war over the resentment of two sisters. He was caught in the middle. Taking the crown in his hands to kneel before a queen. The wrong queen; cutting fake red roses to place in red ceramic vases. Red color filling the walls, the flowers, the floor, a red castle full of agony in a crimson sea. The simple thought makes him shudder, the memory of a pompous gown of gold and red cloth, a small golden crown on the great head of the queen. The damn golden crown.

He shook his head, trying to push his thoughts away. Realizing, late, that the process he was leading over his speech had been lost. Cursing under his breath, careful not to be overheard by anyone, he ran back into the palace. Not caring a bit about the disapproving looks of the staff who were present. He climbed the spiraling marble stairs, his almost silent footsteps on the steps, ran into his room. Pushing hard on the large double doors to his room, he ran to his desk to frantically search for paper and a feather.

Willing to write a coherent speech. His fingers played with the feather for a few seconds, spinning it rapidly between his fingers. He reached for the small glass vial filled with ink, filling the fine point with black. He slipped the tip onto the sheet and wrote.

↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭

Finally it was the brillig in Marmoreal. The fluffy cottons that covered the sky slowly turned a soft pale reddish-orange color. Projecting the same warm multicolored rays throughout the immaculate structure of the palace. White marble that had become a unique spectacle of all colors, it was not something that happened every day, in fact, it was as if even heaven knew how important that dinner was. And he would have decided to side with him. Giving a unique view to the next guests, hoping to mesmerize them with its soft colors. It is an exquisite show that seems prepared for the occasion. He makes him wonder if it is.

Maybe Mirana made some kind of deal with the fluffy cottons. She must have offered them something to make that evening spectacular. An unforgettable dinner, capable of mending ties broken centuries ago by an unfortunate accident that triggered a disastrous number of problems in Underland. He expected that. He wished with all him being that this dinner, a simple dinner, could solve every mistake made centuries ago; _his mistakes_. He looked forward to him being able to get people to forgive the bad decisions he made in the past, the unforgettable acts that led to what happened. He was fed up, even if he did not show it, of feeling they gaze at every step he took, hoping that he would fail, he did not want to continue listening to the murmurs, about how he took advantage of the compassion of Mirana, the queen; he wanted to be able to have a quiet day. Without being the reason for a look of contempt.

He was wrong. He knows better than anyone in the kingdom, in the world, that his actions were bad. The worst decisions he could have made. He, more than anyone, wishes he could have avoided all that, he wishes it with all his being, but it is impossible. He now he has to live with the consequences of his actions, living being watched at every turn by those who wait for some reason to make him a traitor once again. He will never be a traitor again, he does not expect others to believe him, to think that he will turn his back on them the moment everything goes wrong; They think it, and he will prove them wrong.

Oh, he's looking forward to it. Show every person in the kingdom who said, or just thought, that they would turn their back on them again if things got bad. He wouldn't, he had changed after thinking too much about his actions. He spent whole days, and nights, regretting his bad decisions; looking for a way to be someone better, that people will be able to trust him. Mirana held out her hand, giving he the opportunity he was looking for, offering he a home and a family. One that went beyond taking advantage of the benefits made by his position. He had changed, and he is willing to show it.

Pushing those thoughts away, he finished slipping his foot inside the navy blue flat shoe. He firmly fastening the strap, decorated with a cute bow, that he kept the shoes secured in his place. Childish, was the first thought that came to mind at the white stockings with candy patterns that covered his legs. Climbing past his knees. Losing from sight where the fabric of his voluminous dress began. Most of his dress consisted of white fabric, then navy blue, then the red bows. He carefully pulled the white cloth choker around his neck, with a small red bow for decoration, adjusting it so that he would stop choking him. He was mildly uncomfortable at all the ribbons that were tied tightly around his body.

He had been forced to use it against his will, dismissing each of his protests through a window. It was a kind of punishment after he tore the sleeve of his previous suit —which consisted of pants and a shirt—. He glanced at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before leaving his room, cautiously closing the door behind him. He was grateful that there was no one in the hall, hurrying to the garden, where dinner would take place. With relief that he didn't have to lead in heels, even though he'd worn them before. He out the door, nimbly dodging every person he ran into and swore he saw a brown blob leap out of his field of vision quickly. Great, the hare was there too.

He stopped in the courtyard. He carefully observe each thing placed on the long and wide table. The silver of the glittering cutlery was placed perfectly. The samovar and the tweezers. All in the right position. Properly positioned, as it should be, the white porcelain, decorated with pale pink roses; cups, the kettle, the milk jug, teaspoons and the small sugar bowl. More than one three-tier cake stand were placed on the wide table. The cream tablecloth with gold ornament patterns, the slightly darker napkins with the same pattern, ironed perfectly, with no signs of any wrinkles.

Hanging string lights were placed in the garden. Waiting for the sun to go down to be turned on. Little bulbs that would soon flash in the dark like stars in the night sky. Beautiful. The butterflies fluttered peacefully around the slowly but surely blooming buds in the shrubs of the walled garden. Everything was perfect.

As it should be.

Even so. If she didn't like it.

_She will like it. Has to._

Everything will be fine. Dinner will be fine.

↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭

When the sun fell, and the reddish cottons disappeared, dinner began. With instrumental music, of elegant musical instruments, softly playing in the background. With a calm atmosphere, the first guests to arrive took their seats in the table. Taking advantage of the absence of Mirana, who was at the door waiting for her annoying older sister, Cheshire slipped out of sight of the councilors and sat silently next to Tarrant. The hatter glanced at him, subtly offering his hand from under the table. Taking care that no one saw him, he slid his own hand over to take the hatter's, who squeezed it gently to show his support. 

Red sprinkled his cheeks. He averting his gaze as he felt the warmth of the hatter's hand, Tarrant hummed a tune under his breath. He laughed at the familiar tune, feeling a tug on his stomach as the older one stroked his hand, not sure if it was intentional or not. He tried to push away the sensation of a butterfly fluttering wildly inside him, knowing that it would get him nowhere, that Tarrant's feelings did not extend beyond seeing him as a friend, perhaps as a brother. No further, and he never would, the hatter's heart had been captivated by the blond hair and blue eyes. By Alicia. The little girl who came, went and came and went away after fixing things. She would not return.

Not that he wanted it that way, although he knew that if he did, Alicia had decided to go home. Go back home, to the people she loved and they loved she back, to her family, to the place where she was born and raised. Alicia decided it, was offered the opportunity to stay but she declined. Because she wanted to be in her home. Cheshire didn't blame her, a small part of him was thankful that she wouldn't stay, that maybe she didn't reciprocate the hatter's feelings for her, leaving Underland. A small part inside he hoped that with that, after she was gone, Tarrant's feelings for her would go away; it was not like that, the hatter was still waiting for her. And that hurt, hurt more than the stares and the whispers.

Then the atmosphere changed. The music took a backseat as the atmosphere became tense, people barely held back their exclamations of surprise, Tarrant shuddered beside him, and even the butterflies seemed to flee suddenly. He didn't have to turn to know who he was, he would recognize the sound of her heels anywhere. Iracebeth, better known as the Red Queen, entered the courtyard. She looked the same as the last time he saw her, on Frabjous Day, when Alicia killed the Jabberwocky, her dress was still the same. How he was clean was a mystery. But this time, unlike the others, she was alone, unaccompanied by Stayne. It's reasonable, he tried to kill her after receiving her conviction to be chained to her. No one would stand her, not even Stayne, who had sworn to love her.

The red queen walked with Mirana, her younger sister and whom everyone knew she hated with all her being and soul. If she had a soul. His gazes met for a second, a single second in which he thought she would throw herself at him, ready to finish him off but, instead, she looked away from he without seeming affected by it. Cheshire sighed in relief, letting the weight on his shoulders slowly drift off, glancing at Tarrant. He felt bad seeing the expression on his face, a grimace of anger and pain, surely being bombarded by memories of a long time ago. From when he lost everything.

He squeeze his hand, effectively pulling him out of his trance, watching the dark spots on his face disappear. Standing up to walk to their respective seat, just to the right of the queen, and in front of Iracebeth. He was relieved when the former queen decided to ignore him, turning from looking in her direction.

He just had to relax and enjoy dinner. Everything would be fine. Nothing could spoil it.

↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭ ✾ ↭

And it happened. Things could not be perfect, as planned, as expected. Mirana's efforts were lost with just a few words. Words Cheshire wished he had never heard, words that made him shudder and his stomach churned with bitterness. Too bitter, then the air began to lack in his lungs, he felt dizzy immediately. Feeling the expectant gazes on him, waiting for him to do something. He did, not what they wanted; never what they wanted.

He stood up abruptly. The chair scraping the floor roughly, the sound echoing over the soft music, they all looked at him. They were always looking at him. He could see Tarrant, silently pleading not to be reckless. When did he listen to what others wanted? He shot a glance at Mirana, who silently asked he to take a seat again, ignored her. And he looks at her, he really dares to look at her, and he realizes that there is something cruel and malicious shining in her eyes. He realizes how much he really hates Iracebeth, as he wishes to pounce on her and end it all. _D_ _on't be foolish_. But he is no longer listening, nor thinking, so he runs.

Run like he never have. The helpful ability to evaporate into thin air is lost in the confines of his mind when everything screams at him to get away, to run away from the palace. The circus cake lies lying forgotten on the table. He has never run so fast in his life. The mounting panic gives speed to his feet; he slips out of the courtyard, into the palace and continues running. Without relying on his room to be a good refuge. He opens the heavy marble doors, running down the hill as small sakura petals fall on his head. Clouding his vision for a few seconds. That doesn't stop him, he runs, he's unable to stop.

Even when he has left the bridge he is unable to stop himself, he forces his limbs to continue his frantic flight. He is sure he can hear someone calling his name from afar. He doesn't know exactly, but he knows Mirana wouldn't run after him, not if it ruins dinner. The stupid dinner. Maybe it's Tarrant, the thought makes his heart skip, but he doesn't look back. He dares not look at the palace, not in his state of panic and anxiety that settle heavily in his stomach. Fury slowly seeping into his mind. And burns. Maybe it's the shortness of breath, the silent protest of his legs asking for a break —silent, like Mirana's request when he got up suddenly, she will be disappointed.

_And matters?_

Her, for why?

He raises his arms to cover his face, listening to the creak of the branches around him as they break in his wake. The scent of dry earth reaches his nose, having an unusual odor that made his nose itch with irritation. He screamed as he tripped over a dead branch, falling to his knees to the ground, cursing under his breath as he watched the dust rise around him. Waving his arms frantically to drive away the growing cloud of dust, that which adheres to the skirt of he dress and his stockings, leaving them completely dirty; broken the moment he entered the Tulgey Forest and the cloth tangled in the dead branches, tearing randomly in places.

Mirana will be upset. _Disappointed_.

Does matters?

_Does he have to satisfy her at every turn?_

She is the queen. She has the power to kill him.

Only she won't. Mirana is not like her sister.

Even so...

"Hey"

He gasps to the rhythm of his frantic heartbeat. The cold effect of his frantic run across the plain makes him nauseous, his vision blurring until he closes his eyes tightly. After a moment, he finds the energy to lift his head and look at whoever he is there. For a moment he wants to think that maybe, and just maybe, someone really did go after him. That they cared about his well-being. His hopes die when he looks at his companion, and there is something familiar that he does not know exactly place, the boy kneels in front of him, looking at him for a few seconds with that curious amber look. The boy takes a handkerchief out of his vest and hands it to him, patiently waiting until he takes it, he doesn't, and the boy approaches at he over to wipe he cheeks carefully.

The closeness makes him blush, holding his breath when he realizes that he is not used to such things. Finally the boy walks away from him, ending his work. Cheshire tucks a purple and turquoise lock behind his ear, the boy raises an eyebrow in confusion, perhaps because of the strange combination of colors or the bright teal of his eyes. And he doesn't know which is worse. He waits for he to leave, to leave him alone like the others, instead he sighs before running a hand through his brown hair.

Then ask. "What are you doing here?", Then she points to her clothes. "With that"

He attitude is not broken even with the situation that just happened. "Not on a walk", curses the way his voice shakes. "What are you doing here?"

"Lost", admits the boy with his cheeks stained red.

Something throbs inside he. Blink to drive away the fog of tiredness after he's run. He will not walk back to the palace, he is determined, he is using her ability to return. He's just going to come back and fall into his bed. He hopes he can.

"Come on", Cheshire is surprised when the boy extends a hand to help him stand up, he hesitates for a few seconds but he takes it. "Good"

He staggers for a few seconds. His legs are furiously protesting the fact that he forced them a few minutes ago and they couldn't get a well-deserved rest. And he well knows that they need to rest. The boy reacts quickly and helps him stabilize by putting a hand on his lower back. His cheeks burn when he looks up to meet the other's eyes, he realizes then, that he is a little shorter than that mysterious boy. Who walks through the Tulgey forest? Apparently this mysterious boy, who continues to hold his back and too close to him. Very close. Cheshire awkwardly pulls away from him, grateful she didn't fall, even as his legs send pangs of pain.

They both look at each other for a few seconds, in which he loses himself looking at the amber gaze. In an attempt to decipher why he seems so familiar to him. There is something, in the boy, in his clothes and the look of him that makes him familiar, the feeling joins the chaotic sea inside him. Raging waves hitting guilt and regret. He then realizes that he can't stand the pesky shoes any longer. He thinks about taking them off but the thought of being left with just the stockings stops him, knowing that they will get more dirty than they are already dirty. He runs a hand through his hair, pulling the garter decorated with a couple of strawberries to untie his hair from the intricate bun. The strands fell down his back, just below his shoulders, curling into little curls.

"Everything in order?", Cheshire looks confusedly at the boy, who clears his throat. "You don't seem to be okay"

And there is something in the stranger that makes him say it. "I'm not having the best night"

In no respect. Dinner was tense, he couldn't look up, unable to bear meeting Iracebeth's gaze. The one she was once queen, at the one she served with regret, the one to blame for trouble. Or not. Maybe it wasn't, there was something, a story that only the loyal ones knew; told by Iracebeth herself, about the truth, how her sister snatched the crown that belonged to her only by a outburst. An outburst caused by an old rivalry, one that started with the lies caused by her younger sister, who was always the favorite. A hatred that goes back a long time, and that quickly blossomed.

One that Mirana wanted to fix with...

_Using it._

The words etched into his mind, immovable. The thought stands in the center of his mind, bald, jagged, and ugly, and refuses to move.

' _The engagement will have to fix things_.'

The commitment. _His_ commitment. With someone he doesn't know, with someone who was chosen by Iracebeth. Anger and guilt wrap around his neck, making it difficult for his to breathe as red stains the edge of his vision. Why, that she made Mirana make that decision and that she made her believe that he would accept it? Well she's the queen, she has the power to do it, her title gives her the power to order it. If she wanted to, and she seems like she wants. His teeth gnash, threatening to crush his fangs. Every ounce of trust he put in her felt like a part of him being ripped apart. He tried to be better and she...

She give it away.

Like an offering, like a simple pawn.

_How could she?_

"Nobody seems to have a good night", and the smile the boy gives he reassures him. "I am Abelard"

He accepts the handshake. "Cheshire"

"Nice name", his cheeks turn red when Abelard kisses the back of his hand. "Like his owner"

He babbles for a few seconds, his heart racing in his chest at the compliment. Feeling the ghost of he lips on his hand when the other boy lets go. A strange tingling in his hand, not as uncomfortable as the crossed blue ribbons on his collarbone that tie under his collar. He laughs nervously, tightening the skirt of his dress when he hears a _tick-tock_. The watch hidden in his pocket, which he had to blackmail the tailor into sewing, marked the end of the timing. Dinner is over.

The dinner...

"I have to go!"

And he turns to go. He stopping when someone holds his hand firmly, but not without softness, the pompous white sleeve of his dress flutters like locks of hair falling gently. Delicate and beautiful. He turns to see the boy. Then he leaves, grins at his with all his teeth, fading into steam.

He reappears in his room, taking a deep breath. Pain and exhaustion collide with him, his limbs suddenly feeling much heavier. He sits heavily on the bed, bending down to unbutton his pesky shoes as the door opens. The soft golden light from the table lamp casts Mirana's shadow with a strange glint. Illuminating graceful her silhouette down the hallway floor. They both look at each other, without saying anything. Then he looks away, not knowing what to do, finishing his task of taking off his shoes —which he is sure he will never wear again— and holding them with his fingers.

He getting up with effort to walk to the closet. Opening it to leave the shoes when she interrupts him.

"Do you have any idea what it cost us?", She asks he, so softly that he almost doesn't hear her. "That dinner was supposed to..."

The shoes pass Mirana's side, inches from her face, hitting the wall and hitting the floor with a thud. She doesn't blink, she's upset. _Furious_ , and she has a right to be. But Cheshire is too, a raging sea slammed into his chest, and he won't be quenched with a sermon.

Mirana loses her temper. "What the hell?!", she snaps. "Is this a joke, is it all a damn joke to you ?!", Her tone doesn't rise too high, afraid that someone might overhear. "How could you?!"

" _Don't you dare_ ", he hisses back. "You, how could you do that?", His eyes suddenly sting. "You sold me!"

"I don't..."

He cuts she. "You used me to be the pawn that would fix your relationship with your sister!", He can feel cold tears running down his cheeks. "You will not have your checkmate"

With that, he makes her leave his room. He doesn't care about her protests, the half explanations he can barely articulate. Cheshire has had enough.

And for the first time, he doesn't care too much that she is the queen.

**Author's Note:**

> KIOTCHYN: Attention; pay attention.
> 
> BRILLIG: 4 in the afternoon; the time the start roasting things for dinner.
> 
> FRABJOUS DAY: The day the Oraculum predicted that Alice would kill the Jabberwocky and liberate Underland from the oppressive reign of the Bloody Red Queen, thus returning the crown to its rightful owner, her Majesty the White Queen.
> 
> TULGEY WOOD: A thick forest where the checkerboard battlefield is located.


End file.
